To Be
by Rose DiVerona
Summary: DISCONTINUED. Six months post-Aliyah, Ziva comes back into the lives of the NCIS team. But for how long? What happened to their friend? And what dangers await them all? TIVA, possibly McAbby.
1. Shattered

A/N: This is beginning as a one-shot but will probably be continued soon. Post-Aliyah. Definitely TIVA, possibly McAbby. Rated T for language and later chapters.

Disclaimer: Wow, I really wish I owned NCIS...but I'm sure I'd completely ruin the show somehow, so let's be grateful that I don't.

* * *

**Shattered**

"…then I told him I was trying to work on this case for the agency, but he didn't believe me. So I launched into an explanation of all the forensics involved in fingerprinting, but he didn't seem too interested in that, either. So _then-_"

"Been spending time around Ducky lately, Abs?"

Tony and McGee looked up gratefully at their just-arrived boss. It was a sunny Tuesday morning. Abby was visiting the bullpen and had been rambling on for almost five minutes, chattering so quickly that both agents had lost the thread of her story long ago and had resorted to the occasional head nod to indicate they were still listening. Or at least to _pretend_ they were.

"Good morning to you, too, Gibbs," Abby replied cheerfully, breaking off mid-sentence and smiling brightly.

"I hope you're up here because you've got a match on the fingerprints from that Ridley Forest case," their boss said as he slid into his desk chair.

Abby sighed. "Working on it, I promise. Why does it matter, anyway? That case is so cold, it's practically a glacier."

Gibbs smirked but didn't look up at the bubbly scientist, intent on his computer screen. He took a sip of coffee. "Work harder."

She rolled her eyes and seemed about to reply when her face froze and her eyes widened, fixed on something outside the bullpen.

"Abby?" McGee asked uncertainly. "What-?"

A single word escaped the Goth's lips.

"Ziva."

Instantly, Tony, McGee, and even Gibbs jumped to their feet and followed Abby's gaze. It was indeed the Israeli woman, hovering uncertainly by the elevators. She looked so familiar, so natural in the surroundings, that it was almost as if she'd never left. As if the past six months had never happened.

Suddenly, her head turned their way. Her lips tightened in a small smile when she saw them lined up in a row, looking back at her over the cubicle walls.

For a moment they simply stared, taking in the reality of the presence of a friend they were beginning to think they would never see again. Then Gibbs broke away, crossing the room to his old agent.

The others watched as he gently hugged the young woman. They spoke quietly. Ziva nodded about something, and her eyes swept over to the bullpen again. Her gaze lingered on Tony briefly. She and Gibbs began to move back to the others. Slowly, Tony sank back into his chair, his heart pounding wildly.

As soon as Ziva stepped inside the bullpen, Abby flew to her.

"Ziva!" she exclaimed, giving her friend a big hug. "You're back!"

"It is good to see you, Abby. But I am not back for long," Ziva said softly, and the sweet sound of her voice filled up the hole she'd left behind.

Now that she was closer, it was clear something terrible had happened to the Mossad agent since they'd last seen her. There were faded bruises on her face and something hollow in her brown eyes. She moved gingerly.

McGee stepped forward. "Ziva," he said simply, embracing her gently.

"Hello, Tim. I've missed you, too."

Tony did not speak or move, and was not surprised when Ziva ignored him, turning back to Gibbs instead.

"I need to speak with the Director."

Gibbs nodded. "Of course. McGee?"

"On it, boss." McGee hurried around the corner and bounded eagerly up the stairs.

"In the meantime, could I...sit somewhere alone?" Ziva asked. "It was a very long flight, and I would like to rest for a few minutes."

"You could wait in the conference room," Gibbs suggested. "Do you-?"

"I remember where it is." Ziva smiled and looked once more at her former colleagues. "I hope I will see all of you again later." She left the room, and after a moment Tony slipped out of his desk and followed, keeping out of sight until Ziva had entered the conference room.

He hesitated outside the closed door.

_Just do it, DiNozzo. You may not get another chance._

Taking a deep breath, he plunged inside and allowed the door to close behind him.

Ziva was facing him, standing near the back wall. She did not seem surprised to see him. Her eyes were unreadable.

He swallowed. "Ziva." Her name felt beautiful on his lips. He hadn't said it since they left her behind, so long ago...

"Tony." Her response was hard, and Tony, stung, could not help the words that next spilled out of his mouth.

"What are you doing here?"

Ziva's face was defiant. "I am here on business from Mossad."

_Business._ _Of course._

Tony nodded coldly. "Your family." He said the word derisively without meaning to, and Ziva snapped back.

"Yes, my _family_. My father."

"At least you know where your loyalties lie," Tony said loftily.

A spark of anger lit Ziva's eyes, but Tony missed it.

"Why did you follow me, Tony?" she asked wearily. "To mock me? To remind me that Gibbs chose you?"

Tony was unable to hide his shock. "I'm not that cruel."

"You could be if you wanted to be!" Ziva's voice rose in anger.

Tony's escalated automatically to match. "Is that what you want? Do you want me to hurt you, Ziva?"

"You already did!" Ziva shouted, her face turning red. "So go on, do your worst, _Special Agent _DiNozzo!"

"Fine!" Tony roared, suddenly incensed. "Gibbs was _right _to choose me! Is that what you wanted to hear? _I've_ always been there for the team, but can _you_ say the same? I livefor NCIS; you live for whatever your father wants, and if that includes manufacturing terrorists, _fine_! All for the agency, right? Truth is, no one really knows if trusting you will earn them a bullet in the head."

"_I _trusted _you_!" Ziva screamed, unbidden tears forming in her eyes.

"Really? It didn't seem like that six months ago!"

"Because you killed Michael! I trusted Michael!"

"You trusted him more." Tony's voice dropped to a regular level. He looked tired. "Because you loved him. I know, Ziva. But if four years of being your partner didn't earn me your faith, we never had a chance anyway."

"_We_?" Ziva asked.

"We," Tony repeated quietly.

"Why are you here, Tony?" Ziva asked again. "If you are so angry, why did you want to see me at all?"

Tony ran a hand through his hair in frustration, and what he'd wanted to say for a very long time simply spilled out. "Because I love you, Ziva David. I love you too much. Too damn much. I'm an idiot, and I don't care. I've fallen for you over and over again since we first met, even when I swore I wouldn't. And you're not going anywhere this time. I'm not letting you disappear again."

Ziva did not reply. Her dark eyes bore into Tony's green as she stood still.

Tony let out the breath he had not been aware he was holding.

"Well? Aren't you going to say something?"

His former partner opened her mouth to speak, but the door opened and Gibbs came in, walking ignorantly through their web of solitude.

"The Director is ready to…see…you…" he trailed off as he noticed the way the two younger people were looking at each other. "Did I interrupt something?"

"No," Ziva said, finally tearing her eyes away from the senior agent. As she passed him on the way out, she muttered, "I cannot give you what you want, Tony."

And with those words, his world was shattered.

* * *

A/N: I hope this is a good beginning. I originally wrote it to be a one-shot, but then I realized it has potential to go further. I plan to continue when I have the chance. In the meantime, reviews are great.


	2. Ask

A/N: I really shouldn't be submitting this right now, since my senior year of high school starts tomorrow and I have a plethora of things left to do today...but I couldn't resist the muse. I would warn you not to expect another chapter soon, but sometimes the world works in mysterious ways, so who knows?

RE-POST NOTE: I changed the formatting of this chapter after receiving a couple confused reviews. Sorry if the flashbacks threw anybody for a loop. From here on, they will always be in _italics_; even if there is a time or scene change, if the script remains italicized, the scene is still in the past.

* * *

**Never Ask**

Gibbs' head swiveled between his best agent and his former one as Ziva exited the room quickly, leaving Tony alone with the team leader.

Tony stared straight ahead at the wall for a long moment, apparently gaining composure. He squared his shoulders and began to move out after the Mossad agent, ignoring his boss altogether.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs blocked his senior agent from exiting the room.

Tony didn't meet his superior's penetrating gaze.

"Yeah, boss?"

"Remember Rule #12."

Tony looked up, his expression a mixture of surprise and hurt. "Ziva's not a coworker anymore," he protested. And then, softly, "But I don't think you have anything to worry about."

And he pushed past, leaving Gibbs to wonder just what he'd missed.

--

_Five months earlier…_

_"Well, that was smooth, Tony," McGee signed resignedly, staring after the fast-retreating figure of Sophie Edwards. "That's the fourth replacement candidate you've scared off in the past two weeks."_

_Tony shook his head and ousted a grain of dirt from under his thumbnail, elbows resting on his desk._

_"She was blonde. Don't like working with blondes."_

_McGee groaned and slammed his clipboard onto his own desk, spinning back to face his partner. He took a deep breath, reigning himself in._

_"Tony…" he began almost reluctantly, "you can't keep doing this. Vance wants us to recruit another teammate-"_

_"We don't_ need _one," Tony cut across the younger agent, still examining his fingers. "This team worked fine when it was just me, Gibbs, and Kate—three is a lucky number."_

_McGee sighed, pursing his lips._

_"Look, Vance is gonna pick someone if we don't, and you know you won't approve. And by the way, Gibbs knows exactly what you're doing."_

_"'Course he does, but he hasn't stopped me, has he?"_

_"Because he's like you. He doesn't want a new teammate to replace…her." McGee's near utterance of the 'Z-word' was enough to make DiNozzo meet his partner's eyes for the first time in the conversation. McGee continued quietly, "Hell, Tony, I don't, either. But she isn't coming back. Time to move on."_

_Tony's green eyes flickered to the empty desk and back to Tim._

_"Okay," he said finally, swinging his chair around so his back was to McGee. "But I meant what I said about those blondes."_

_"What did you say about blondes, DiNozzo?"_

_Tony jumped and looked guiltily up at his boss, who had appeared suddenly, as always._

_McGee answered slowly. "Tony got rid of another hopeful this afternoon, boss."_

_"Did he?" Gibbs reached over and head-slapped his senior field agent, but more gently than usual, and there was a glimmer of amusement in his blue eyes. "What was wrong with this one?"_

_"She was blonde," Tony said simply._

_"Well, that explains all, McGee," Gibbs said solemnly, shrugging and settling into his seat. Tim's angle was such that he could not see either of his teammates' grins._

_He sighed. "You _both_ are insufferable."_

-

_That night, Tony settled into his couch, a six-pack of beer resting on the coffee table in front of him and a stack of DVDs balanced precariously near his feet. He was just about to turn the television on when someone knocked on his apartment door._

_"Must be the pizza," he mumbled to himself, glancing at his watch. Half an hour late._

_He pulled open the door, already half-turning to find the check he'd written out beforehand, when he realized the person standing before him was definitely _not_ the pizza delivery guy._

_"Probie?" His eyebrows soared up to his hairline. Had McGee ever been to his apartment before? He didn't think so._

_"Hey, Tony," McGee said, as if his sudden appearance was a regular occurrence. "Can I come in?"_

_"Do you have a warrant?" Tony asked, flashing his usual grin._

_McGee rolled his eyes. "Not exactly."_

_"Thing is," Tony said carefully, "I have plans tonight." Plans for being alone that do_ not_ include McGeek._

_"Big date?" Tim asked skeptically, eyeing his partner's T-shirt and sweats._

_Tony held the door open wider, realizing that he was not going to be left alone, not tonight. "You caught me. Come in."_

_McGee stepped inside, unable to hide his interest as he glanced around the room._

_"Nice place. But, uh…have you ever cleaned in here?"_

_Tony laughed. "Very astute, McCurious. The answer would be yes, but not for a long, _long_ time. What…?" His unasked question hung in the air between the two agents._

_"I thought you might like some company," Tim admitted. "It's a Friday night, and I knew you didn't have a prior engagement, so-"_

_"How did you know?" Tony's eyes narrowed._

_"Because you haven't been on a date since Ziva left the agency," McGee said bluntly._

_Tony's face tightened defensively. "That's not-"_

_"It _is _true, Tony," McGee insisted, his voice suddenly hard and uncompromising. "You can't stand going to bed with another woman because you miss _her_." He could see his friend wilting under the accusation, but he wasn't ready to let up. He jabbed a finger into the adjoining room. "This is what you do every night. You don't make plans and you turn down offers for group outings because you've got a few cans of beer waiting for you at home. I know it, Gibbs knows it. And I'm not letting you do this to yourself anymore."_

_Tony stood still in astonishment as the junior agent he'd always considered somewhat meek and geeky stood up to him and forced the truth into his face. When had McGee become so much like himself? He regained his voice fairly quickly, but was unable to summon the anger he had hoped to feel._

_"So, you gonna be my guard dog or something?" he joked feebly._

_Tim smiled and his shoulders relaxed. Somehow, he was soothed by this reaction._

_"No. I was just hoping to entice you with the offer of a movie night every once in a while, or a guy's night on the town."_

_Tony's face lit up. "Tonight's your lucky night, Probie. I've got every single James Bond movie ever made on my living room floor, and a large pizza on its way. Join me for a marathon?"_

_McGee peeled off his jacket and grinned._

_"Thought you'd never ask."_


	3. Trouble

A/N: Remember what I said about the world working in mysterious ways? Yeah. Well, I never would have predicted I'd be updating again after only two days. But here it is! :)

Btw, I realize the last chapter confused some people, and I apologize. I have reformatted it to make more sense, and from now on, all flashbacks will be in italics. Everything in 'Never Ask' is a flashback to five months before this story begins (and one month after 'Aliyah'), except the very small bit where Gibbs reminds Tony about Rule #12, which is present-day. Go back and look it over if you need help. Sorry for any confusion...hope I didn't just make it worse. :(

* * *

**Trouble**

That evening, Gibbs, Ducky, Tony, McGee, Abby, and Palmer waited at their favorite bar for Ziva. The Israeli woman had left NCIS immediately after seeing the director that morning, but only after promising to meet them all for drinks at nine.

"She should be here by now!" Abby whined, jiggling her leg under the table impatiently and glancing around as if expecting their friend to appear out of thin air.

McGee clamped his hand on her knee to stop the movement.

"Abby, she's got ten minutes. _Relax_."

On the other side of Abby, Tony slouched in his seat, glaring sourly at his half-empty drink. He hadn't wanted to join the party tonight—didn't want to face the woman who had broken his heart—but he couldn't find a way to explain this to the others without revealing what had transpired in the conference room. Besides, if there was a chance Ziva was going to explain where she had been all those months and how she had sustained her injuries, he wanted to be there.

"You okay, Tony?" Palmer's innocent question brought all faces turning to the senior agent.

Tony sat up straight and leaned on the table, thinking quickly. He smiled.

"Yeah. Just thinking about…the Madison case from last week."

Everyone else nodded in understanding. That one had hit close to home because it involved a fallen NCIS agent, and even once they'd caught the bastard responsible, none of them was particularly satisfied.

"Rule #11, DiNozzo," Gibbs called across to him.

"'When the job is done, walk away,'" Tony recited. "Working on it." He didn't think Gibbs believed his lame excuse, but was relieved the man didn't pursue the subject in front of everyone else.

Then he cringed. The last time Tony had heard mention of Rule #11 had been six months ago…the evening Michael Rivkin died in Ziva's apartment…

_Gibbs stood at the corner of Tony's desk, ever reprimanding. "Rule #11, DiNozzo."_

_Tony had been distracted, hadn't realized what his boss was saying, and he'd responded instinctively._

"_I would never date a coworker, boss. Trust me. I mean, why would you even..." Gibbs' knowing smile stopped him in his tracks. "…that's twelve. Eleven…when the job is done, walk away."_

"_Case is wrapped up, DiNozzo. In a nice little bow," Fornell had told him confidently. Tony was doubtful._

"_And that works for you, Fornell? Crazy terrorist kills himself?"_

_Fornell had shrugged. "Can't really understand that mentality. Doesn't mean I can't accept it."_

But Tony _couldn't. _Maybe he should have walked away, but he hadn't.

"Ziva!"

Abby's greeting pulled Tony out of his thoughts. He glanced up to see the woman making her way toward them, smiling. Gibbs stood and kissed her cheek, offering her the vacant seat between himself and Palmer. She sat, nodding to their hello's and offering one of her own. Her eyes carefully avoided Tony, but he suddenly found he couldn't tear his away from her.

She had left her hair down; even dressed in a red sweater and blue jeans, she was beautiful. The bruises were less noticeable in the darkness; in fact, unless you already knew they were there, they were more or less invisible.

What would happen when she left the U.S. again? Would she come back to see them? Would she keep in contact? _Could _she? And worst of all…would this be the last time he would see her, ever? He'd thought they were parted forever when she was left in Israel with Mossad, yet here she was now, sitting feet away. It wasn't possible to be that lucky a second time…was it?

Ziva ordered a drink from their waitress and tapped her fingers on the table, glancing aimlessly over toward the bar. The silence became awkward as the six months of separation—as well as the furious state most of them had last seen her in—stretched between them.

McGee cleared his throat. "So…Ziva, does it feel strange to be back in D.C.?"

Her eyes latched gratefully onto him, and she laughed easily. "A bit, yes. Even in a few months, so much has changed. Much had changed in Tel Aviv when I returned there as well…" But her voice darkened and she left the sentence hanging.

"How long are you staying, my dear?" Ducky inquired gently, steering the conversation away from Israel.

"Only a week. My father wishes me to return quickly."

"Where are you staying?"

Everyone turned, surprised. Tony's green eyes were calculating, locked on Ziva's. His question had been casual, but there was suppressed tension beneath it.

"In a hotel," Ziva said finally. She cocked her head to the side. "Are you going to check up on that, Tony? Make sure there isn't a new criminal boyfriend in the mix?"

Nobody laughed; nobody moved.

Tony felt the hurt hit him like a physical blow. He swallowed and tore his gaze away from Ziva's, standing and leaving the building abruptly.

Everyone else was shocked to silence, the friendly atmosphere broken before it had time to form. Even Gibbs did not seem to know what to say. Finally, his eyes fell on his former agent.

"You shouldn't have said that, Ziva."

Ziva looked as though she felt the same way, but she stood sharply.

"I have to go," she told them without looking at them. "I'm sorry." And she hurried out of the bar.

**~line~**

Later that night, Gibbs was in his basement, working on his boat, when his cell rang. He answered without glancing at the number.

"Yeah, Gibbs."

"_Gibbs, was that Officer David I saw earlier today in the bullpen_?" a familiar voice demanded.

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Hello to you, too, Director."

"_Answer the question_."

"That was Ziva. You oughta know. She went up to talk to you."

There was a short silence. Then Leon Vance sighed and spoke quietly.

"_No…she didn't. She never came up_."

Gibbs frowned. "She told me her father sent her on a business visit, and she had to speak with you. McGee arranged the meeting, Leon. You remember?"

The Director sounded peeved. "_Yes, I do, but David never came in to talk to me. And I just got off a video conference with Eli David. He asked me if I had any idea where his daughter was. He was pissed. If David is here, she was not sent by her father."_

Gibbs' eyes widened. He shook his head.

"I'll call the team-"

"_Don't bother_." Vance's tone was clipped. "_This isn't a case, Gibbs. I told Eli I hadn't seen his daughter but I'd let him know if I did. Stay out of it; this one's too close to the chest for you and your agents. If you do happen to see David, let me know_-"

Gibbs hung up and dialed, beginning to speak as soon as the phone was answered on the other end.

"McGee, we've got trouble."


	4. Night

A/N: School is going really well so far, and I am happier than ever with this story! So far, the 'T' rating has been unnecessary, but not anymore. There's one swear word in this chapter, and I want to warn you that it will be getting worse--probably more language and definitely violence coming up soon.

* * *

**Night**

"What's up, boss?" McGee asked as he stepped into the eerily quiet bullpen, covering a yawn. _What can Gibbs possibly want at 12:30 in the morning?_

Gibbs was sitting at his desk, glaring at his computer screen and nursing a cup of coffee.

"You call DiNozzo?" was his gruff response.

"Tried," McGee said, dropping his backpack on the floor by his desk. "Got his voice-mail."

Gibbs gave his agent a stern look.

"I'll keep trying," McGee said quickly, and he punched Tony's number into his desk phone, listening intently into the receiver. Gibbs' attention was distracted as the elevator dinged and Abby appeared.

"Abs, what are you doing here?" Gibbs asked as she approached. He shot a glance at McGee, but the younger agent was tactfully turned away, muttering what sounded like a message for Tony's cell.

"McGee called me," she said, looking hurt. "Gibbs, I can't believe you were gonna leave me out of the loop."

"There isn't any evidence you can examine," he told her. _Yet._

Abby shook her head determinedly, pigtails bouncing.

"Don't care. I need to _know_. I need to be informed."

Before Gibbs could counter this argument, McGee hung up and shrugged.

"Still no reply. The phone's on, but I'm not getting an answer."

Gibbs pinched his lips together in displeasure.

"All right. We give him ten minutes, and if he doesn't pick up, we'll go _find _him. In the meantime, you two find out all you can about why Ziva's back in the U.S."

Abby's eyes widened. "I thought you said it was Mossad business-"

"I did."

McGee frowned. "I got her a meeting with-"

"She didn't show," Gibbs said, standing and moving past the other two.

"Boss, you don't think Tony-" McGee began.

"No," was Gibbs' brusque reply as he stalked out of the bullpen.

**~line~**

"Where are you, Ziva?" Tony sang under his breath, peering slightly apprehensively out the front windshield of his car.

Nearly three hours before, he'd noticed Ziva leaving the bar as he lingered in the parking lot. She glanced around carefully before hailing a taxi and setting off in the opposite direction of the Navy yard. Against his better judgment, Tony followed.

The taxi had taken a meandering route through downtown D.C. The traffic, even at nine o'clock at night, made it extremely difficult to tail without being obvious, but Tony was a trained special agent.

Then again, in effect, so was Ziva. She _had _to know she was being followed. She knew Tony's car. Unless she was too distracted to notice?

More than once, Tony questioned why he was putting so much effort into tracking the Israeli woman. She was more than capable of taking care of herself, as she had proved time and time again in the past.

Why did it matter, anyway? She was on official business from Mossad—nothing to do with NCIS at all. She was no longer his agency's problem.

So it was personal. He needed to know where she was so he could make sure she didn't disappear again. Though, by all accounts, he shouldn't have cared if she did. She had slashed his heart twice in the same day, and_ still_ he cared about her. This went deeper than the personal feelings he had; his devotion to ensuring her safety was rooted in the fact that they had once been partners, and partners looked out for each other. Ziva might not officially work for NCIS anymore, but in Tony's mind, she would always be his teammate. He couldn't just abandon her.

Sometimes, Tony really hated loyalty.

Ziva's taxi eventually pulled up in front of a Country Inn & Suites. It let its passenger out, and Tony relaxed. So his gut had been wrong. Ziva really _was _staying in a hotel, as she'd said. He began to pull away when he noticed that his quarry was not going into the building. She paused for a moment; took something out of her pocket and messed with it. A moment later, she replaced the object and began to head down the sidewalk.

Tony's phone jingled. He glanced down and realized he had a new text message. It read, 'Do not follow me. GO HOME.'

He glanced up, but couldn't find Ziva on the street.

"Damn it!"

Slamming the car into gear, he headed in the direction he'd seen Ziva go.

_What are you doing? _he chided himself. _She was warning you to stay away. Clearest signal you've ever gotten from a woman._

_She _lied _to me, _his other half argued. _Something isn't right._

_Maybe not, but...mess with the crazy Ninja chick, you face the consequences._

_Shut up!_

He decided to stop having internal conversations with himself when he suddenly spotted Ziva moving discreetly down a side street. This was the bad part of the city—_what _was she doing?

Several minutes later, Ziva swiftly crossed a yellow lawn and knocked on the back door of an inconspicuous one-story residence. The door opened almost immediately, and she slipped inside.

Tony parked a short ways away and settled in to wait.

**~line~**

Three hours later, he was still waiting. The thought had occurred to him that Ziva might have slipped out the front door on the other side and crept away without him noticing. If this had been a proper stake-out, such outlets would have been covered.

But it was not. Tony was alone, and his current position read more along the lines of obsessed ex-partner than federal investigator. For all he knew, Ziva was visiting someone for Mossad. She could still be on business.

But Tony didn't really believe that.

He yawned and glanced at the clock. Midnight. He should be in his apartment, sleeping. He had work the next day, and Gibbs would not tolerate tardiness. He lay his head back and closed his eyes. A few more minutes and he'd get going…

Five minutes later, or so it seemed, he woke suddenly.

Disoriented, for a moment he forgot where he was. Then the memory came back to him, and he rubbed his aching neck uncomfortably. It had been tilted over the headrest while he'd been asleep.

He next noticed that it was now one o'clock in the morning. He'd been asleep an hour, and a combination of several factors had been his alarm clock.

First, and most obnoxious, his phone was vibrating against his belt. He groaned, willing it to stop. Which it did, a moment later.

Second, he had woken from a very strange dream, in which Ziva, himself, and this very neighborhood had been featured. In the dream, Ziva had come outside and gotten him out of the car. A strange group of people had been standing around her—they were Israeli, and seemed harmless enough. Mostly elderly folk. Then Ziva had told Tony he had to go with them. 'You broke the rules, Tony. You must be punished,' she said quietly to him, and though her voice was neutral, she was smiling unkindly. Tony remembered a feeling of panic—he didn't _want _to go with them, this was bad, very bad, _Gibbs, help me!_ –and then he had woken.

The third factor had to do with the prickling at the back of Tony's neck. He was being watched. Slowly, he looked out the passenger window.

And almost screamed when he saw the face looking in at him.

Ziva opened the door—_oh, great, it was unlocked_—and sat in the seat next to her former partner. She stared at him for a long moment.

"You should not have followed me, Tony."

Tony tried to find air as bile rose in his throat. He was utterly terrified—were the strange people waiting outside for him? He checked—no one.

"Why did you let me?" he asked quietly, hoping his voice sounded even. He forced the dream to the back of his mind. _Pull yourself together, DiNozzo._

She did not answer his question. Her gaze strayed down the street and then snapped back to Tony when he shifted uncomfortably.

"We can no longer be in contact," she said sharply. "Do you understand? It is too dangerous. I do not want anything to happen to the people I care about here. Not because of me."

"So you _do _care," Tony said coolly.

Ziva looked down. "You were my friend, Tony. You all were, and I do not forget that. I am sorry for the things I said to you earlier. Both times. I did not mean to hurt you, but I thought it was the only way to get rid of you. Apparently I did not succeed."

Tony swallowed. "I look out for my partners."

"We are not partners any longer. I will always remember my time with NCIS, but it is over now. We must never see each other again. It is the only way."

"You're not here on business from Mossad, are you?" Tony asked, disregarding her words.

Ziva shook her head slowly. "No. A fact I am sure Gibbs has figured out by now." She nodded at Tony's phone, which was vibrating again. "That is probably him."

Tony ignored the device. "Don't do this, Ziva. Let me help. Let _us _help."

"I can't do that. It does not concern you, and I can take care of myself. I _must._ Tell them to leave me alone. You will not understand, but it must be done." She stepped out of the car; paused with her hand on the handle and locked eyes with Tony one last time. "Forget about me. For your own sake, and mine. I never existed. And Tony…do not come back here. Ever."

And she shut the door and disappeared into the night.

* * *

A/N: The plot thickens.

Fun Fact: Tony's dream is based on one I had a couple nights ago, which was pretty much that exact scenario, NCIS characters and all. I just took out some irrelevant details that were in mine. :)


	5. Address

A/N: Sorry for the longer-than-usual wait, but I am so busy, it hurts to even think about it. Also, I may be getting sick. Me and half of the country, right? Anyways, NCIS season premiere in FOUR DAYS! That's enough to make me smile. :) Hope you all continue reading, even as this story becomes AU once the series starts up again.

* * *

**Address**

Tony looked after her for a moment. He felt curiously emotionless—calm—and he knew from experience that this only meant whatever he was feeling would hurt twice as much when it decided to erupt.

He reached down and answered his phone, which was buzzing angrily yet again.

"DiNozzo," he said roughly, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

"_Tony? Where the _hell_ are you?"_ McGee sounded frantic.

"Wh-what?"

"_I've been calling you for over an _hour_. Gibbs is furious. Why didn't you answer your damn phone?"_

"I was asleep," Tony yawned.

"_But not at home_."

Tony realized McGee had tracked the GPS in his cell, and this level of concern spiked his interest.

"Probie, what's-"

"_What were you doing, Tony? For God's sake, please don't tell me you've been sleeping with another waitress or something, because that would really take the cake tonight_."

The insinuation hurt like a punch in the gut. Tony winced, but tried to pass it off as nothing.

"That hurt, McGee."

"_Just get back to the agency, now. We need your help."_

"Aww, I'm touched. You _need _me." When this elicited no response, he sighed, abandoning the playful tone. "Tell Gibbs I'm on my way."

"You_ tell him_-" McGee began, but Tony hung up.

**~line~**

Twenty minutes later, Tony poked his head out of the elevator. He could see McGee at his desk, eyes fixed on his computer screen…but Gibbs was nowhere in sight. Taking courage by this fact, he cautiously crept through the darkened room to his desk, dropping his pack silently on the floor. Then he slipped around behind McGee, preparing to scare the younger agent.

"Don't try it, Tony."

Tony jumped as McGee glanced disinterestedly up at him.

"How did you-?"

"The elevator dings, DiNozzo." McGee's gaze returned to the monitor.

Tony frowned. "Ah. I forgot. Must be more tired than I thought. Where's Gibbs?"

"Abby's lab."

"She here, too?"

"M-hmm."

Tony leaned casually on Tim's desk.

"Mind telling me why we're here at this most wonderful hour in the morning?"

The junior agent sighed and leaned back in his chair, surveying his partner. He thought he could something in Tony's eyes, something broken that had once been whole, but not since Ziva left, and certainly not after earlier in the evening.

"Ziva," he said softly, and Tony was not surprised. "Her father didn't send her here. She came alone, secretly."

"But you already knew that, didn't you, DiNozzo?"

Both agents jumped as Gibbs strode into the bullpen, seething.

Tony stepped back. "Boss, I-"

"Rule number three!" Gibbs barked in his face.

"Never be unreachable," Tony recited softly, flinching. "I'm sorry, boss."

"You followed her, didn't you?" Gibbs accused. Tony looked at the floor, and that was answer enough. "Without back-up. Do you have _any_ idea how stupid that was, DiNozzo?"

Tony's shoulders slumped. He didn't answer, and Gibbs huffed angrily and stepped around his senior field agent, dropping into his desk chair with a thump.

McGee suddenly wished he was somewhere else, _anywhere _else. The tension in the room was thick; Tony had never looked so…sad.

"I…I thought I would watch out for her…or find out was she was doing." Tony shot a furtive glance at Gibbs; the man did not acknowledge him. Sighing, the younger agent slunk to his desk and dropped into his chair, halfheartedly booting up his desk computer.

"Boss…" McGee's voice was quiet and careful, "what did Abby find?"

"Let her tell you," Gibbs said curtly. It was only then that others noticed Abby was standing there, where Gibbs had been. She was watching Tony, something unreadable on her face.

McGee cleared his throat. "…Abby?"

She broke out of her entranced gaze and began slowly, easily sliding into her 'information' voice. "Three months ago, Ziva went off the grid. Completely. It's like Mossad wiped all her records, made it so she had never existed. Her last known location was Africa, and let me tell you, it was hard to even find that out. Someone really wanted to make Ziva MIA. That in itself was suspicious, barring the possibility of a deep undercover operation. If that had been the case, I should still have been able to find records of her birth. But there was nothing. Nada."

"You think…you think they wanted to get rid of her?" McGee asked slowly. "Decided she was a failed project, time to—pardon the expression—take out the trash?"

Abby nodded. "That was my first thought. But then I realized that her father called Vance, asking where she was. Either he's not in the loop, or-"

"Or she escaped when she wasn't supposed to, and he's trying to find her before she moves against him," Gibbs finished, his eyes icy. He couldn't believe a father could be so uncaring towards his own children.

Abby shrugged. "'Fraid so, Gibbs. I'm guessing Ziva's in hiding now, and just couldn't resist paying us a visit."

"…how do we know she isn't working _with _them?"

The question hung heavy in the air, and the speaker, McGee, immediately looked sorry he'd asked it.

"I trust her," Gibbs said softly, but his voice wasn't half as certain as it usually was.

"I know, Gibbs, but McGee has a point…" Abby said softly.

"Do you trust _me_?" Tony asked suddenly.

Everyone looked at him, surprised by the vulnerability, the _yearning _in his voice.

"You know you don't have to ask that, Tony." Gibbs' tone was unusually gentle, and they could tell he was sorry he'd yelled at his protégé.

"Do I?"

Gibbs looked floored. "I trust you," he said sincerely, locking eyes with the younger man.

After a moment, Tony nodded slightly and leaned his elbows on his desk, rubbing his eyes with his thumbs.

"I know where she is," he told them. "We could set up a watch…if you think that's a good idea, boss."

Gibbs chewed on the thought for a moment.

"We'd have to keep it under the radar—secret from Vance, I mean," Abby reminded them.

"That shouldn't be too hard," McGee shrugged, warming to the idea. "He's never been as perceptive as Director Shepard was."

"Okay," Gibbs said finally, nodding. "We start now—McGee and I. Abby, you keep looking for more on Ziva."

"And me?" Tony asked.

"Sleep," Gibbs said firmly. "You look like crap." When Tony began to protest, he raised an eyebrow.

Tony sighed. "Fine."

McGee picked up a pen and notepad.

"Address?"


	6. Taken

A/N: I am so sorry this took so long! I got so excited after the season premiere that a whole influx of one-shot ideas sprang to mind, and 'To Be' was put on the backburner. But here is a new chapter, even though it's very short and IMO, not the greatest. Well, possible editing later, but some new reading for you all now. :)

* * *

**Taken**

Tony yawned as he pulled up to his apartment. His resentment at being temporarily booted off the "case" was dampened by the exhaustion he felt sweeping over him. A few hours of sleep couldn't hurt, and Gibbs wouldn't let anything slip past his watch.

_Maybe this was all a stupid idea, _he mused as he trotted up the stairs and let himself into his home. _Ziva's a big girl. She can take care of herself._

He let his bag drop carelessly to the floor and continued on to the bedroom, placing a firm mental block on thoughts of the Mossad agent for the time being.

Twenty minutes later, freshly showered and clad in sweats and his favorite Ohio State sweatshirt, Tony returned to the kitchen for a quick bedtime snack.

Something was off. With a sense of foreboding, he casually glanced around the room. At first, nothing seemed to be out of place. Then he noticed that his front door was unlocked, and he definitely remembered securing it behind him. His backpack was just a few inches to the left of its original spot, and it was partially unzipped.

"Special Agent DiNozzo?"

He spun.

**~line~**

It was a pretty morning, but the weather was the last thing on Gibbs' mind as he stalked into the bullpen, a fresh cup of coffee clenched tightly in his hand. He and McGee had quit their vigil at six that morning, after the team leader had ultimately ruled their mission nonsensical. Their quarry could have slipped out any of a hundred different ways. Gibbs knew Tony wouldn't be happy, but they didn't have time to play cat-and-mouse. They had a job to do, and Ziva David was not on the to-do list. Not _officially._

"Where's DiNozzo?" he demanded.

From his desk, McGee shook his head. "Hasn't been in yet. I checked with Abby—he went home last night. She didn't."

"You call him?"

The junior agent looked up in surprise. "Not yet. Boss, he's only fifteen minutes late. Maybe he overslept?" The expression on Gibbs' face sent him reaching for his phone. "I'll try him anyway."

Gibbs nodded tersely. "Good idea."

McGee listened for a moment and shook his head, hanging up. "He's not answering."

Gibbs turned sharply and returned to his own desk, retrieving his gun from its usual drawer. Tim stood as well.

"Boss?"

"Tony always answers his phone. _Always. _Once in twenty-four hours—his mistake. Twice…" He let his voice trail off as he headed briskly to the elevator, McGee trotting at his heels. "Something's wrong."

**~line~**

They reached Tony's apartment in a record ten minutes, thanks to Gibbs' driving. The man pulled into a no-parking zone and paradoxically parked the car, jerking his head pointedly to DiNozzo's parked vehicle before heading into the building without so much as a word to McGee, who followed, gun in hand.

Tony lived on the second floor, first door on the left. Gibbs didn't bother knocking, instead pulling a key from his pocket and inserting it into the lock. The door swung inwards, and Gibbs motioned McGee to enter first.

There were no lights on, and all the blinds were drawn. Gibbs moved into the back rooms.

"Clear!" he called after a quick look around. "He's not here."

"Clear!" McGee echoed from the living room, flicking the light switch on the wall. He started. "Boss…"

"What?" Gibbs asked shortly, moving back through the doorway.

Tim pointed to the carpet. A red stain marked a spot next to the coffee table.

"I don't think that's wine…"

**~line~**

Abby's music was blaring in her lab when McGee arrived an hour later. He tapped the scientist on the shoulder and she spun, green eyes wide.

"Tim! Never sneak up on me like that!"

"Sorry," he said softly, trying to decide how to break the news.

"Anyway, I don't have anything new for you...what's wrong?" Her expression changed quickly to one of concern.

He sighed and crossed to the stereo, turning it off. Silence fell over the lab as she stared at him.

"Tony's missing."

"Missing as in you don't know where he is, or missing as in…taken?" she asked, her voice a decibel higher than before.

McGee took a breath. "We found blood on his carpet. It's his."

Abby stepped back, shaking her head in denial.

"No…not _Tony_!"

"Abby, we're going to find him. We'll figure this out. He'll be okay."

"Did you see the bruises on Ziva's face?" Abby asked suddenly.

"Yes…" McGee said, frowning.

"And the look in her eyes? Someone did something to her. Something bad. They're after her again. And if they've got Tony…" she shook her head and turned her back to him, shoulders tense. "Go away, McGee. Go get him back."

"We will," he said gently, backing out of the lab. _We have to._

Once McGee was gone, Abby put her face in her hands and leaned her elbows on the table.

_Not again, _she thought desperately. _Please, not again._

She took a deep breath and marched to her computer, fingers at the ready. Tony needed her help. And once they'd dealt with Team Gibbs, the kidnappers would be sorry the NCIS agent had ever been taken.


	7. Black

A/N: The beginning of this chapter might throw you for a little loop, considering where I left Tony last time...

* * *

**The World Turned Black**

A black car sped down an almost deserted Virginian freeway.

"Look, will you slow down!?" Tony squawked as he was hurled against the passenger door yet again. He winced. "Do all you Israeli chicks drive like this?"

The young woman next to him smiled briefly but did not let up on the gas pedal.

"I do not want to risk the possibility of being followed," she replied calmly.

"I thought you also wanted to be inconspicuous."

"Yes."

"Right. Well, hate to be the one to tell you this, but here in America, people don't drive one hundred and fifty miles an hour!"

She glanced sideways. "Do all Americans talk this much?"

Stung, Tony fell back into his seat and recalled the unbelievable events of the night before…

"_Special Agent DiNozzo?"_

_He spun._

_His heart caught in his throat as he stared down the barrel of a frighteningly large gun, yielded by a petite, dark woman who could have been Ziva's sister._

"_Who're you?" he gaped._

_The gun crept closer. "Are you DiNozzo?"_

_He swallowed and nodded. "Yeah."_

_She lowered the weapon. "I believe you. I saw your license. I am Agent Adara Jordan."_

"_You're Israeli? Mossad?" _

"_I am Israeli, but not Mossad." She said the name with hatred. "I am from the Resistance."_

_Sirens went off in Tony's head and he inched backward, fingers groping for anything useful as a weapon. Gibbs was right: he _had _been an idiot before. Well, not this time._

"_Resistance?"_

_She shook her head impatiently. "We do not have time to discuss this. You must come with me before they get here."_

"_Who?" His fingers closed around a pair of scissors._

"_Those who have been following you. Who intend to capture you."_

"_Like you?" He acted, bringing the scissors up and moving to attack._

_She was faster, pushing his arm aside and flipping him sideways into the living room. He gasped as the scissor blade sliced his arm and grunted when he hit the floor and she landed smoothly on top, pinning him down._

"_I am not asking. You do not have to trust me, but you will come. By your own will—or not."_

"_Who are you?" he repeated, wheezing._

_She spoke rapidly. "I am from a highly secret organization based in Tel Aviv. Mossad is corrupt. Director David sent his own daughter to her death last May, but she escaped and foolishly returned here. There are many people looking for her, and_ you_ have involved yourself."_

"_I only followed her-"_

_She cut him off, speaking in a low, rapid hiss. "I am not speaking about tonight, though that was a mistake as well. I am talking about your killing of Michael Rivkin. You made Mossad a personal enemy the night that happened, but you also made something else clear—you hold the heart of Ziva David. The Director will use any means to retain the information his daughter holds, and you are far too connected. If they catch you, they will use you both as bait and revenge, and I can promise you will not survive."_

_Tony could not help a small shiver. He had the oddest feeling that he had just fallen into a movie, but for the life of him, he couldn't think of the title._

"...s_o what do I do?"_

_She climbed off him. "You come with me. I will take you to a safe place."_

_Tony didn't see that he had any choice, so he pulled himself to his feet, blinking down at the painful gash on his arm, which had bled onto the carpet._

"_Ouch."_

_She shook her head impatiently. "You should not have fought back. I have supplies in the car to treat the wound. We need to leave."_

_He took a deep breath and nodded, stilling his trembling knees. He carried the bloody scissors to the sink, hoping that Abby would have some evidence she could use to find him if things went wrong. Then he slipped into his running shoes, hoisting his backpack over one shoulder._

_'I can't believe this is happening to me...'_

Now he glanced down at the injured arm. His sweatshirt sleeve was pulled over the bandage underneath. The cut had been shallow, thankfully, but it stung. If it wasn't for the pain, he might believe he was dreaming. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. The others would be at the agency by now.

"You need to let me call my boss," he said.

Adara shook her head. "It is too dangerous. They can track calls."

"You have a burn phone, don't you?" She did not reply, and he sighed. "Look, you already dashed my own phone to pieces" (she had, on the sidewalk outside his apartment) "and by now they'll know I'm missing. I don't want them to endanger themselves by looking too hard for me."

Slowly, she nodded and handed over a black phone. "Fine. But only the facts. No chat-chit."

He smiled bitterly, thinking of Ziva and her problem with idioms. Then he punched Gibbs' number into the phone.

**~line~**

McGee was taking the evidence (and the bad news) down to Abby, and Gibbs sat at his desk, wondering what to do next. There was little doubt in his mind that his agent's disappearance had something to do with Ziva. But they had no _proof_, not yet.

Just one hundred pieces of a cell phone that had likely been Tony's, a bloodstain on a living room rug, and a pair of bloody scissors in the sink. DiNozzo's bag, with his gun and badge, were gone.

The phone on his desk rang. He reached for it, hoping it was Abby with some miracle answers.

"Gibbs."

"_Boss?"_

He sat up straight. "Tony? That you?"

"_Yeah."_

"Where the _hell _are you?"

"_I'm safe…at least, I will be. I'm being taken to a safehouse. Mossad is dirty, boss. They're after Ziva, and now they're after me, too. They might try to get to you guys, so be careful."_

"DiNozzo-"

"_I know, boss. I was an idiot. I'm sorry."_

"Don't apologize-"

"_I can't talk to you anymore. I promise I'll contact you as soon as I c-oh, God."_

"DiNozzo?"

"_We're being followed," _came the terse reply, but it sounded as though Tony was talking to someone else.

Gibbs' grip tightened on the phone. "Tony?"

"_I gotta go. We might be in trouble. Stay safe and I'll-" _

There was a gunshot, a shout, and the phone went dead.

"TONY!"

**~line~**

Tony yelled out in surprise as a bullet shattered through the rear windshield. He dropped the phone and ducked instinctively.

"Stay down!" Adara instructed, accelerating the car and taking a sudden sharp turn. Tony was thrown against the door even harder than before, and he couldn't stop a small grunt.

He fumbled in the bag at his feet for his SIG and balanced it in his hands, using the rearview window to watch the car—no, _two _cars—moving to hem them in.

"You've really done it this time, Anthony," he muttered to himself as he hit the button to the window and whipped around, firing two shots into the car on his side. Both thudded into the hood.

"Are you _insane_?" Adara shrieked, tearing the weapon out of his hands. "Stay _down_!"

Noting her manic expression, he obeyed, folding himself as far to the floor as he could without undoing his seatbelt, which he felt would be a suicidal action in the present situation. Adara was shouting in Hebrew and firing her own gun outside the car with one hand on the wheel.

_Not even Ziva is _this _crazy…_

A series of gunshots hammered into the car in quick succession. A few sailed through the open window, and Tony realized their enemies had drawn even with them.

He braced himself as he was thrown again, this time against Adara herself, who did not take the slightest notice of him as she continued to fire shots.

The muzzle of a gun appeared over the rim of Tony's window, and he reacted automatically, thrusting up with the heel of his hand and knocking it away. His fingers fumbled for the window switch, but before the glass was halfway up it had been shot to pieces. Tony shut his eyes against the flying shards and glanced over at his companion, who was now using his own gun in lieu of hers. As he reached for the knife at the woman's belt, she jerked forward suddenly and blood sprayed on the steering wheel.

Tony realized a split-second later that Adara had been shot through the neck. Even as their assailants suddenly fell back, he struggled to reach the steering wheel, head whipping up and eyes widening in horror at the concrete wall right in front of him.

One sickening crunch, and the world turned black.


	8. Revelations

A/N: Thank you for all the reviews for the last chapter! What a great Thanksgiving present. I see I have definitely stirred up some level of excitement/anxiety with that cliffhanger...

* * *

**Revelations**

NCIS arrived on the scene less than three hours later, thanks to the quick response of the local PD and the use of a federal helicopter.

Immediately upon disembarking the copter, Ducky set off to find the reported body while McGee trailed his boss somewhat warily. Gibbs was in full "bastard mode," using his vertical advantage over the rather corpulent head detective as he received what was known of the situation.

"You say you received a call about 1100 hours?" Gibbs spoke quickly, not waiting for an affirmation before barreling onward. "Caller classified the scene as a wreck, but everything was like this when you arrived?"

McGee, now jotting notes on a small pad, glanced sideways to the completely totaled vehicle. It did have the appearance of a terrible accident, but on top of that, some sort of bomb appeared to have gone off inside. Gibbs had told him very little except that Tony's badge and equipment were found in the smoking ruin, and McGee was itching to process the scene.

Anything to find his friend and partner.

Gibbs swiveled and shoved the camera into his junior agent's hands.

"We're a little short. Shoot and sketch. I'll bag and tag."

"Whaddya got, Duck?" Gibbs asked, squinting in the sunlight. His friend was crouched in a ditch off the side of the road, several yards from the main scene. Palmer was not with him, having stayed behind in D.C. to keep Abby company.

"The body," Ducky said grimly. He amended quickly, "It isn't Anthony."

Gibbs gazed down at the charred corpse. "Elaborate."

"This unfortunate victim is female," the M.E. said, returning his attention to his work. "A young adult…and much shorter than Tony, I might add."

"She looks more damaged than the car," Gibbs observed critically.

Ducky nodded. "That would be because she was not inside it when it exploded." He indicated splatters of a substance on the pavement near the victim. "This residue is oil. There are also traces of it in her hair and I should imagine elsewhere on her torso. Our Jane Doe was set on fire."

Gibbs managed not to wince. "Burned alive, or died in the crash?"

"Neither. Though she was undoubtedly in the vehicle when it crashed, as her injuries would suggest, they were all acquired posthumously, evidenced by the absense of large quantities of blood. This poor young lady was dead even before the car wrecked. Shot through the jugular, I'm afraid," he said sadly, index finger highlighting the fatal wound.

"If she was the driver, it would make sense for the car to lose control after her death," Gibbs mused. "Causing the accident. Would DNA be able to confirm it?"

"It's possible, but unlikely. It will be difficult to recover DNA off this body or the wreck." He recognized the look on the agent's face. "What are you thinking, Jethro?"

"I'm thinking that was the point." Gibbs marched back towards the scene. "McGee!"

"Yes, boss?" McGee's head appeared over the opposite side of the car.

"Report!"

"Tony's bag—what's left of it—is here, on the passenger side. His badge and license are inside. His gun was located outside the car, possibly flung by the impact of collision. Assuming he was in this seat, he was wearing a seatbelt."

"How can you tell?" Gibbs asked curiously.

McGee explained, pointing. "The buckle is still snapped, but it melted in the explosion. The strap has been cut through." He moved around the car, continuing his synopsis. "Every window in the car besides the front windshield has been shattered, and judging by the bullet holes imbedded in the metal and those inside the car, a firefight took place. Tony and his mysterious rescuer lost. There's a blood trail across the pavement, but it stops abruptly just at the road. The smears indicate the wounded person was dragged, and I would say another car was waiting where they end."

Gibbs was mildly impressed, but he didn't show it. "And what does all this together tell you?"

"You want my opinion?" Tim's eyebrows flew up.

"I want your _theory_, McGee."

"Right. Taking into account the seatbelt factor, plus the exploding car, which seems to have been engineered specifically as a cover-up, _plus _the fact that Tony's gone and there is as-yet unidentified blood on his side of the car…I'd say Tony survived the crash and was taken by the people who shot his driver.'"

"Why are you so certain Anthony survived?" Ducky asked, approaching them.

"If he had died, he would have been left behind," Gibbs said firmly, nodding at McGee. "The pursuers wanted to hide any traces, so they rigged the car to explode and set the woman's body on fire to prevent her identity from being discovered."

McGee sighed and sagged. "So…we have nothing."

"Not quite," Gibbs disagreed. "Abby can test the blood sample and make sure it's Tony's type. And there's a still a chance on the DNA."

_Which translates to…nothing, _McGee thought resignedly.

**~line~**

"Where _are _they?" Abby whined, tapping her fingers on Tony's desk and scowling into thin air. "And why won't they take my calls?" She rolled her chair back and forth and sucked noisily on the straw of her almost-empty Caf-Pow!

From McGee's desk, Palmer looked up. He was accustomed to his friend's impatience and generally could find something helpful to say in response. But this time, he had no useful reply, because he felt extremely anxious himself.

"They're probably really busy," he offered halfheartedly, looking hard at Abby's cell and willing it to ring.

"That's no excuse!" Abby fumed. "McGee promised he'd call, and he hasn't, and they've had plenty of time. I mean, they should be back here by now!"

Jimmy secretly agreed. It was already dark outside. He had endured Abby well enough throughout the afternoon, but he had a feeling the passage of much more time would leave him as much as on edge as she was. It was hard to believe that twenty-four hours ago, they had all been getting ready to meet at the bar for drinks.

Getting ready to pretend that Ziva's leaving the agency had made no difference.

Ziva. Who knew where she was by now?

"They'll call," he said simply, returning his eyes to the papers on his lap and trying to ignore Abby's glare.

"What are you reading?" she asked accusedly.

"Papers. They were on McGee's desk. Something about Michael Rivkin and his mission?" Palmer held them up.

Abby's eyes lit up. "Good idea! We've read them before, but it can't hurt to try again. Something to _do_, at least." And she joined him.

**~line~**

Somewhere else in the city, in a dark room in the basement of a shabby apartment building, preparations for a mission were well underway.

"I will return in half an hour," a voice said from the shadows. "You must be prepared."

The young woman nodded as the figure left her alone. She did not trust the voice, but there was little choice in her situation. She slipped into black clothing and began to load up with weapons.

From a grimy radio in the corner, a newscaster related the stories of crimes in the capital on this day.

"…in other news, a federal agent was abducted early Wednesday morning from his residence in the metropolitan area. Authorities have confirmed that NCIS Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo did not…"

Ziva's blood ran cold, and her hands froze in midaction.

_No._

"...thought to be the work of terrorists. No further information is being released to the public at this point..."

_It's my fault. Oh, Tony..._

And she sank to the floor, her head whirling with terrible revelations.


	9. Captive

A/N: So...long wait. Yep.

EDIT: The site took all my story breaks out, which means all my scenes began to run together. Grr. I have gone back and added this- **~line~ -**to indicate a break. Sorry for the confusion...

* * *

**Captive**

"Boss...I brought you more coffee."

Gibbs' head snapped up. McGee stood before him, holding out a large paper cup from the team's usual place. He held a second in his other hand, presumably his own.

"Thanks, Tim." Gibbs accepted the drink and took a long sip, sighing. He glanced at his watch. Past one in the morning, for the second day in a row. "Has Abby found anything?"

McGee shook his hand, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. "No. It's a dead end, they're all dead ends!" His voice escalated and he collapsed wearily into his desk chair.

Gibbs waited a moment, trying to quell his disappointment. "What about Ducky?"

"The body is a woman..."

"Is that _all_?"

"That's all so far, Gibbs!" McGee sighed and stood, hanging his head. "I'll go help Abby. She's probably drowning in Caf-Pow by now."

"We'll find him, Tim."

McGee froze. Gibbs' voice had been so low he almost believed he'd imagined the promise. But when he turned, the older man was staring directly at him.

He couldn't bring himself to respond; desperately, he bolted for the elevator.

The doors opened before he could push the button, revealing a very somber Israeli woman.

"Ziva!" McGee gaped. Behind him, Gibbs stood up.

Ziva stepped forward. "Any news?" she asked softly.

McGee had enough doubts to keep his mouth shut. Ziva's face registered hurt when she saw this, and she turned her gaze to her former boss.

"I know what has happened. I want to help."

"Absolutely not," Gibbs said firmly.

"I may be the only one who can!" Ziva exclaimed, her voice cracking. They noticed then that her eyes were red. "This is all my fault!" She sank to the floor and curled up against the wall.

McGee glanced over his shoulder as Gibbs stepped up behind, nodding at him. Silently, Tim slipped through the door to the stairwell, leaving the other two alone.

Gibbs sat on the floor next to the younger woman.

"Ziva--what happened?"

She didn't have to ask what he meant.

"When you returned to D.C. with the Director and Tony, I was angry. I was not thinking clearly--I see that now, but I did not then. My father wanted to send me on an operation in Michael Rivkin's place. I accepted; I would not have been allowed to refuse. Our mission was to expose a terrorist cell in Somalia..."

**~line~**

_Hidden deep in a terrorist cell..._

The first time Tony woke, he thought he must be dreaming. He opened his eyes but saw only brown and black blurs, indistinct shapes that were speaking in a language he didn't understand. Maybe it was just that his brain didn't seem to be moving at a normal speed.

A hospital smell was everywhere, but Tony didn't remember getting hurt and this didn't feel like Bethesda.

_Gibbs..._

Agony shot up his shoulder and he screamed, slipping back into unconsciousness...

The second was a much more lucid awakening.

He came to realize he was propped up in a hospital-like bed, but the room around him looked nothing like a hospital--dirty brown walls and a dirt floor underneath were the only clues to location.

There were no sheets on the bed, but Tony didn't need them--his sweats and T-shirt were sticking to his skin in the heat. The Ohio State sweatshirt was gone.

An IV drip was attached to his left arm, and he began to reach over to pull it out. His wrist wouldn't move, and it took a foggy moment to realize his wrists were chained to the sides of the bed. His legs were similarly pinioned at its foot.

He swallowed, mouth suddenly very dry.

_Think, Anthony. What happened?_

The chase. The shooting. The crash. It came back in a sudden rush.

He could only assume he'd been captured by whoever had been pursuing them, which was undoubtedly very, very bad.

A dull throb reminded him that he had likely sustained extensive injuries from the car wreck. Upon observation, he discovered that his right shoulder down to his elbow was heavily bandaged, and his left knee was in a cast of some kind. There were holes in his pants and dried blood discoloring the surrounding material.

He shifted--and his legs were on fire. A surprised yelp escaped before he could stifle it.

A door opened behind the bed.

"You are awake." A man appeared. He was of Middle Eastern origin and looked fairly unintimidating, but he carried the air of a man in charge.

Tony tried to speak. "Who--are--you?" His voice was rough and he licked his lips impatiently.

The man laughed. "You know nothing about me, but I know everything about you, Agent DiNozzo."

"Oh?" Tony managed.

"Yes...I have taken a particular interest in you, Anthony. And in your friend--Miss David. Yes, she and I grew very...acquainted...over the summer."

Tony drew in a breath, struggling to control his flaring anger. "Who are you?" he repeated.

"My name is Saleem," the man said, beginning to circle the bed.

"What do you want?"

"Oh, I think you know the answer to that." Saleem seized Tony's injured shoulder and twisted. The other man could not help crying out, and Saleem laughed, a malicious gleam in his eyes. "Generally, I prefer my visitors be unharmed when they come to visit me...but I suppose there was no alternative in your case...and this will make things much more interesting..."

Tony gritted his teeth and blinked back tears of pain.

"Eli David hired you, then?" he asked evenly, unwilling to give the other man the pleasure of knowing how much pain he was in.

"The Director pays handsomely," Saleem said carelessly, tracing his finger along the bedrail as he circled slowly. "But he is a foolish man who believes I am obsessed with pain. My real fascination is the human body." Suddenly, he was in Tony's face. "How long do you think you will last, Agent DiNozzo? I hope it is for a while; we have time." He backed away. "Of course, you could make this easier by answering the questions I ask of you. For example...how do you think your friend Ziva felt when my men made love to her?"

Tony pulled fruitlessly at his chains, lifting his upper body away from the pillows.

"You bastard!" he shouted.

Saleem backhanded him across the face and he flew backward, face stinging.

"Yes, we will have fun, Agent DiNozzo. I can see that now. Especially when your ex-partner arrives to save you..."

"She knows not to come," Tony said confidently. "She'll know it's a trap."

Saleem shrugged. "Perhaps...perhaps not. In the meantime, you are going to have to learn the rules. You like movies, don't you, Tony? Rule one: _We have ways of making you talk. _You will learn to cooperate. Or you will regret it."

Tony's blood ran cold and he watched helplessly as Saleem left the room, leaving him alone--captive.

* * *

A/N: Please note that the way I developed Saleem's character is not necessarily the same way as was seen in "Truth or Consequences." He is not OOC; this is simply AU.


	10. Author's Note

Hello, dear readers.

As you can see, this is not an update. Sadly, I have decided to discontinue this fic. This is only the second time I have ever done something like this (the other was in the Twilight fandom), and it's the first time I don't plan on removing the story from the site. I've written too much and like it too much to do that.

I only discontinue stories when I become disinterested in the fandom. Which has, unfortunately, happened with NCIS after an incredibly steady flow of fanfics since I first started watching. But I have become disappointed with the show as of late, and I no longer really watch it.

So this is just a heads-up in case anyone has been waiting for an update (but you've probably all forgotten about this story anyway).

Sorry to leave you hanging.

~Rose


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